The look she gave him was at once calculating, tantalizing, and totally feline. Her emerald eyes shimmered with deviltry and her merry laughter rang out like a hundred tiny bells. “Just stay on my good side, darling, and you have nothing to worry about!”
The mist lay heavily across the bay, matching Kathleen’s sorrowful mood as she watched Ireland fade from sight. A heavy sigh caught in her throat, threatening to become a sob. Turning from the rail, she saw Reed watching her intently. She mustered a wan smile. “I think I’ll go below-deck for a while,” she told him.
Kathleen worked her way carefully across the crowded deck and passageway to the captain’s quarters. The Kat-Ann was carrying three times her usual crew, as well as numerous other passengers on her return voyage to Savannah. Before leaving Ireland, Reed had offered passage to those servants and crofters’ families who wished to emigrate to America. He issued the same invitation to those sailors and personnel who had worked for years for Edward Haley’s shipping firm. A goodly number of loyal crewmen, many of whom had sailed under Kathleen’s command years earlier, accepted Reed’s offer of employment in Savannah. A couple of the firm’s bookkeepers followed suit. Several crofters and a few of the servants, whose hatred of the English had grown steadily over the years, decided to try their luck in America rather than work for the infamous Ellerby. Those with trades could find work as carpenters, masons, blacksmiths, cooks, and seamstresses. Kathleen was certain that her grandmother, who had never approved of the concept of slavery, would hire many of the farmers and their families at her own estate, Emerald Hill.
The Kat-Ann, designed to carry cargo, and outfitted as a privateer, was never meant to house so many passengers. The few cabins were crammed to overflowing, as were the crew’s quarters, and there were even bedrolls and hammocks strung on deck. Every nook and cranny from bow to stern was filled with cargo, supplies, or people, and the Kat-Ann rode low in the water.
Kathleen fought her gloomy mood as best she could. She spent extra time with her children and talked for hours with Isabel, who was by now physically recovered from her ordeal and beginning to put on a few much-needed pounds. Additional energy was spent making sure the crofters’ wives and children had everything they needed. Sewing circles were organized to provide useful outlets for energy and the opportunity for companionship among the women. Katlin and Alexandrea’s large cabin was convened into a makeshift nursery during the day, with mothers taking turns watching the youngsters. This gave the women a few hours' respite from the constant demands of their children, and at the same time provided the children with playmates and organized activities to compensate for the restriction of their normal freedom aboard ship.
Once a day, all the children were shepherded on deck for fresh air and sunshine, carefully watched by anxious mothers to be sure that their natural exuberance would not take them near the ship’s rail. The roll and pitch of the frigate on the ocean swells made many of the women lurch along at an unnatural gait, and Reed laughingly commented that they resembled a flock of waddling mother ducks with their brood stumbling along in their wake.
Still unable to shake her depression by the fifth day, Kathleen fell back on her old remedy. Rising early, she donned a pair of trousers she kept in her sea chest, and a boy’s full-sleeved shirt. Inwardly, Kathleen winced at what Reed’s reaction might be, but she squared her shoulders and marched out on deck. By now Reed was used to the idea that his adorable wife had some very unfeminine talents, but Kathleen usually took great care to conceal them in public. Alone with Reed and their usual crew, she often took the helm and sailed the Kat-Ann herself, as she had done several times on the trip over. At home, she donned trousers when she helped Kate train the horses they raised at Emerald Hill, or for a wild early morning ride on her palomino stallion with Reed. Together they would race across fields and pastures, Kathleen on Zeus and Reed astride his own black stallion, Titan.
Reed had learned long ago to accept Kathleen’s unorthodox behavior and dress as a natural part of her charm and unusual allure. It did no good to rail at her; the more he ranted, the more outrageous she became, as if to spite him. He really didn’t mind as long as she was discreet about it. Most of the time he enjoyed sharing the excitement of his world with her. Kathleen was so much more vibrant than any other woman he’d ever met, that others paled in comparison. She had a daring and zest for life, adding a sparkle and spice to their marriage that he’d never imagined possible. Not even in his angriest moments would he trade his mercurial mate for a more conventional spouse, but there were times when she tried his patience sorely, and this was one of them.
Kathleen strode boldly onto the deck, bound for the mainmast. Reed took one look at her trim figure, accentuated by the men’s clothing, and was instantly vexed. A deep frown creased his brow and his eyes narrowed in annoyance. Handing the wheel over to the nearest man, he stalked over to where she was already climbing the mast.
Hands on hips, he glared up at her. “What in hell’s half acre are you up to now?” he bellowed.
With a graceful dexterity that always amazed him, she swung about, clinging to the mast with one hand, one foot balanced precariously on a spar. Looking down at him, she measured the distance separating them and announced pertly, “I’d say about twenty feet and climbing.”
His face clouded at her answer. “Get your sweet self down here,” he ordered, “before I climb up and carry you down over my shoulder.”
Her own eyes narrowed into green slits. “Your caveman tactics don’t impress me, Reed,” she smirked.
“My hand on your backside will make quite an impression,” he warned sternly. “Are you coming down?”
Kathleen shook her head, her flaming hair flying in the breeze. “No!”
“Kathleen,” he said slowly, striving for some remnant of patience, “be reasonable. The ship is overflowing with passengers, and you are making a spectacle of yourself.”
“At this point, I couldn’t care if the king and his court were watching!” she spat out irritably. Her eyes closed on a deep sigh, and when she opened them, she gazed at him imploringly. “Reed, please. You are quite right when you say the ship is crowded. I can’t go three feet without tripping over someone, and frankly, it’s driving me insane! I’ve taken all I can in my present mood, and I’m sorry if I am embarrassing you, but I need some space. I desperately need some time to myself; to think, to release the pressures building up inside me; to deal with my anger over losing the estate; to settle my mind.” Green eyes glittering with unshed tears, she begged him for understanding.
The moment he glimpsed her tears, Reed was defeated. When faced with her ire or tart tongue, he could spar with her on even ground; but under the force of her tears, his anger rapidly disintegrated. He smiled wryly, gave a frustrated sigh, and waved her on with a flip of his hand. “Up with you then, sprite,” he said gruffly. “Off to your clouds and your private musings. Just make sure you come down in a brighter mood than you’ve been in lately.”
Smiling her thanks, she blew him a kiss and scurried up the mast before he could re-think his decision.
Perched high above the deck, at the very top of the mast, Kathleen found the solitude she craved. The wind whistled in her ears, blowing her hair wildly about her face, creating a unique music she loved. Up here the noise from the deck was muted by the wind, the flapping of the huge sails and the creak of wood. At this height, the sway of the mast as the ship sliced through the sea was magnified, but Kathleen was used to it. It soothed her as a babe is comforted by the rhythmic movements of a rocking chair.
Far below, she saw the deep blue waves, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. With no land in sight, it was easy to imagine the swells rolling off the edge of the world in a gigantic waterfall. For a long time, Kathleen sat on her lofty throne, letting her thoughts and agitation drift away on the wings of the winds; letting the motions and sounds of her beloved sea sift into her being and fill her with peace.
Tranquil as she was, it took
several moments for her mind to register what her eye had already unconsciously realized. Instantly alert, she peered intently at the small dark speck in the otherwise undisturbed azure sea.
“Ship to the starboard stern!” she shouted.
Reed’s head snapped up, his eyes searching for her in the shrouds above him. “Can you see her colors?” he barked back.
“Not without the glass,” came her answer. “She’s too far off. But by the shape and size of her, I’ll lay odds she’s British.”
Immediately Reed sent a man up the mizzen mast with the glass. Kathleen kept her post, awaiting the identity of the craft. A chill up her backbone told her what the sailor confirmed seconds later.
“She’s a limey brig; all sails unfurled, and closing fast!”
“A British warship!” Reed cursed under his breath.
Kathleen lost no time shinnying down the mast. Her face was tense, her supple mouth drawn into a thin line. “Damn and double damn!” Normally the sleek, fast Kat-Ann could outrun and outmaneuver any ship on the sea, but now she was burdened by her extraordinarily heavy load.
Kathleen raced to Reed’s side. “We can’t outrun them, Kat,” he told her unnecessarily.
She nodded briskly. “Then we’ll have to stand and fight.”
Pride shone in his eyes, making them a brilliant blue as he gazed at her. No simpering Miss here, but a tigress, ready and willing to defend her young.
“I’d rather it not come to that. There are too many passengers aboard. Perhaps we can outwit them instead.” The Kat-Ann was flying no colors, in case of a situation such as this.
“I have an idea,” Kathleen said. “Run up the Irish flag! Let them come alongside, thinking they approach an ally. We cannot hope to avoid their guns otherwise, but once they are upon us, their cannon will be of little use, as will ours.”
Reed nodded thoughtfully. “They’d risk a broadside from us, and the odds would be even then. Either could sink the other readily.”
“Precisely.”
“They’ll be looking to impress sailors into service,” Reed surmised, his thoughts flying furiously. “If we let them board in their usual imperious manner, we could surprise them.”
“Like unsuspecting trout to a lure,” Kathleen agreed with a sly smile. “And with so many seasoned seamen, we should have no problems. We’ve three times our normal crew, and all good fighters.”
“Reformed pirates, mostly.” Reed suppressed a rueful grin, but his eyes gleamed momentarily. Quickly they outlined their plan, and set out to inform the men.
It took Kathleen all of five minutes to gather her rapier, knife, and pistol, and order the women to stay belowdeck with the children. Now she stood behind Reed, watching as the English brig pulled alongside. Their plan was simple, but Reed’s acting abilities and timing would be crucial to the outcome.
“Heave to and prepare to be boarded!” The shouted order sang across the short space separating the two ships.
Over his shoulder, Reed said, “Kat, if anything should go wrong ...” .
With a jab of her elbow in his unsuspecting ribs, she cut his words short. “Nothin’ll be goin’ wrong, me laddie,” she answered in an exaggerated Irish brogue. “Newgate prison is not on me list o’ places t’ visit this season.” The anticipation of the encounter kindled an added gleam in her sparkling eyes as she threw Reed a wicked wink.
“You’re a sassy wench, Kathleen Taylor,” he retorted with a grin.
Their attention was brought to the business at hand as grappling hooks found their marks, linking the two vessels like multiple umbilical cords. A plank served as a bridge, and in short order a score of British seamen boarded the Kat-Ann behind their commanding officer. From what Kathleen could see from beneath Reed’s arm, he was short, chubby, and pink-cheeked. Only his impeccable naval uniform and dour expression prevented him from resembling an elf.
“Who commands this vessel?” he demanded imperiously.
“I captain the Kat-Ann, ” Reed replied, aping Kathleen’s Irish accent.
The British officer eyed Reed with obvious disdain. Drawing himself up to his full height, which still left him several inches shorter than Kathleen, he stated, “In the name of the King of England, I command you to release all British seamen and subjects into my command immediately.”
Doing his best to assume a humble pose, Reed said, “I do not believe we carry any, sir, but you are welcome to check.”
“Oh, we shall—we shall indeed!” The officer sniffed haughtily. “We shall also appropriate any arms, ammunition or supplies we deem useful to His Majesty’s Navy.” He motioned for his men to search the ship.
When the British seamen spread out to investigate, the Kat-Ann’s crew went into action. While a number of Reed’s men stood quietly on deck, meekly watching and making no move to stop them, the British seamen selected several for impressment into England’s service. These men were relieved of their weapons and herded together into one group to be guarded by three of the British, while others went belowdeck to search out more men and confiscate goods.
Kathleen stood quietly behind Reed and watched the enemy disappear one by one into the passageways. Several minutes went by with no apparent disturbance occurring. Except for an occasional dull thud, no sounds reached the upper deck.
Meanwhile, several innocuous-looking sailors slipped quietly into position on deck, awaiting the signal from Reed. Laughing to herself at the British officer’s superior expression, Kathleen stepped quickly from behind Reed, rapier in hand. “My, my! Rats aboard my ship!” she exclaimed loudly. “What shall I do about them?” She looked down her tip-tilted nose at the short man before her. At the sound of her decidedly female voice, all heads turned her way, all eyes drawn to her. The sight of Kathleen in form-fitting trousers and low-buttoned blouse, her fiery tresses blown wild by the breeze, was startling, to say the least.
Reed’s slight nod went unnoticed by all but those who had been waiting for it. Within seconds, Reed’s rapier blade was at the small officer’s throat. The three seamen guarding their prisoners suddenly found themselves at gunpoint. Before any of the British were aware of what was happening, the grappling lines were cut, and the two vessels lurched apart. With amazing speed, the Kat-Ann’s crew flew into action releasing lines and unfurling sails, as Kathleen took the wheel. Finley signaled from below that the remaining English sailors were subdued.
As the space between the Kat-Ann and the British warship widened, so did Reed’s grin. With their commanding officer and several of their crew held prisoner, it was safe to assume the English would not fire on the Kat-Ann.
A few hours later, Kathleen stood at the stern rail with a much less assured British commander. She wore a broad smile, while he wore a very red face and a ragged towel about his otherwise naked body.
“I do hope you can swim, Commander,” she taunted, her voice rich with laughter. She flicked at his towel with the tip of her rapier.
One by one she and Reed had forced their captives overboard to flounder in the briny Atlantic until they could be rescued by their ship. With each man released, the distance between the two vessels widened, until the British brig could no longer be seen. The commander was the last to be set adrift, and by the time his ship retrieved his water-wrinkled, pruny person, the Kat-Ann would be long gone.
With a final nudge of her sword, Kathleen prodded him over the edge, at the same time hooking his towel. Kathleen hid her eyes with her hand in mock embarrassment as the chubby officer flailed the air and finally hit the water as bare as the day he was born. Her rippling laughter floated down to him as he surfaced, as did her parting comment:
“Damn fool Englishman!”
Chapter 4
The next few weeks were trying on everyone’s nerves. Being confined in such crowded quarters made tempers short, but the voyage was surprisingly smooth for the most part. They encountered no more British vessels, and they gave a wide berth to Bermuda, an English controlled island. The sea was calm fo
r most of the crossing, and the trade winds favorable. Not until they entered the warmer southern waters a few days from Savannah did the weather give them problems. This region was now in the midst of the hurricane season, and tropical storms were known to appear out of nowhere, swooping down with surprising speed and force, only to disappear just as suddenly, leaving behind destruction beneath blue skies and sunshine.
Having encountered a couple of smaller squalls, it was no surprise to Reed when another threatened this day. Still, he had an uncomfortable feeling about the coming storm.
“What do you think, Kat?” he asked, trusting her mysterious intuition about the sea more than his own experienced opinion. “I’m uneasy about this one for some reason.”
Kathleen nodded. “So am I. I think we may be on the fringes of a hurricane. See how murky the water has become?”
Reed agreed. With the rising wind, the waves had become larger, and the Kat-Ann now bounced roughly on the choppy seas. “The winds keep changing instead of blowing steadily from one direction. You must have noticed how many times we’ve had to trim sails already.”
Kathleen was staring into the hazy waters below. “The fish have gone deep,” she commented. Reed did not question how she knew this. Some things about Kathleen would always be a mystery to him, especially her strange affinity with the sea and its creatures. He simply accepted her statement as truth.
“I wish I knew whether we were heading into it or merely catching the edge,” he mused.
“I can’t help you there,” Kathleen answered. “You’ve told me often enough that hurricanes are notoriously unpredictable. All I know is that I’ve not seen a dolphin all morning, and that is a warning in itself.”
Reed’s frown deepened, lines creasing his forehead. “We’d better prepare for the worst, just in case. The way the winds are changing, I’d say we are on the outer edge, but whether it is the leading edge or the tail of the storm is anyone’s guess. If it is a hurricane, it won’t matter anyway. They’ve been known to stay in one location for a week or more, then take any direction you’d care to name. They’ll gather strength or lose it without any particular rhyme or reason.”
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